


The Clapham Rope Trick

by derryderrydown



Category: British Panel Show RPF
Genre: Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-17
Updated: 2010-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/pseuds/derryderrydown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you're going to tie me up for your entertainment," Charlie said, "I want a safeword."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Clapham Rope Trick

**Author's Note:**

> So very, very fictional. Chatporn that I was bullied into polishing up a bit.

David had wanted to do Screenwipe for a while but his schedule had never lined up right. Until, finally, he had an available day, Charlie had a camera crew and a studio, and they both had something for him to talk about.

Unfortunately, the studio, camera crew and Charlie were going to be busy for the next couple of hours as they recorded some links. Which, for reasons that David hadn't understood - and probably wouldn't until it was broadcast - involved Charlie being tied to a chair.

And David _could_ have wandered off to kill time somewhere else but, he'd decided, he might as well stay here where there was a runner to bring him tea and sandwiches and generally look after him.

He really was, he reflected, turning into a media twat.

"No good," Al, the director, said, walking over to Charlie. "The ropes look completely fake."

"They are fake," Charlie said, moving enough that the ropes fell off.

Al wrapped the ropes around him and tied them at the side of the chair. "What do you reckon?" he called to the cameraman.

"That looks better," said a voice from behind the camera.

"If you're going to tie me up for your entertainment," Charlie said, "I want a safeword."

"What do you normally use?" Al asked.

"Squid."

"Squid?"

Charlie shrugged. "It's not a word that crops up incidentally in my sex life. Don't know about yours."

"Only on Saturdays." He was interrupted by a shout from across the studio. "Fuck. Be right back."

Charlie shifted in his chair and the loosely-tied knot promptly came undone. "Well, that's bollocks. David, could you tie it again?"

And, of all the things David had been planning to do today, tying Charlie Brooker to a chair really wasn't one of them. He wiped his hands on his trousers as he walked across the set, but his palms were sweaty again before he'd even touched the rope.

Perhaps that was why he was fumbling. Or because he didn't have a great deal to do with rope in his day-to-day life. Or it may have been because he was - as previously mentioned - tying Charlie Brooker to a chair. After negotiating - sort of - a safeword.

"Bit tighter," Charlie said, and he grunted a little as David tightened the ropes. "Tighter," he said, and there was something off about his voice.

David had to swallow before he could say, "Are you sure? Because these are pretty tight and you have got to be able to talk."

Charlie's eyes were shut. "God, yes," he muttered, voice rough. "Tighter."

And David realised, with less shock than he would have, in retrospect, expected, that he was having pervy rope sex with Charlie Brooker.

Pervy, semi-public, fully-clothed, rope sex.

Which wasn't the kind of thing that happened to him.

It was enough of a surprise that he jerked the rope viciously tight.

Charlie made a noise like the breath had been punched out of him and, when David looked down, he could see Charlie's erection shoving against his jeans. He quickly moved to stand between Charlie and the crew and, feeling stupidly, impossibly brave, he brushed the back of his hand against the bulge in Charlie's jeans.

And Charlie said, "Squid."

It was quiet, mumbled, and it took David a couple of seconds to work out what Charlie had said. As soon as he did, he jerked his hand away. Because he'd fucked up, because he should have ignored the whole erection thing and just tied Charlie up and gone away. Which didn't sound exactly _innocent_ but it was better than this.

But then Charlie opened his eyes, looked at him, and said, "If you touch me again, I'm going to come. And - not here." Charlie shut his eyes for long enough to take a deep breath. "Dressing room. Please."

It took David quite a long time to undo the ropes because he was suddenly even more inclined to fumble than when he was tying Charlie up in the first place. But eventually Charlie was free and he leaned forward in the chair, took a deep breath. "Al," he called, "I need to take fifteen."

Al looked across the studio. "Yeah, sorry, should've untied you. Floor manager's radios are on the fritz. It'll probably take about that to fix them."

Charlie didn't stand up until Al was safely distracted by his discussion. When he did, he picked up the rope with studied casualness, as though it just happened to be in his hand and he hadn't noticed, and walked towards the dressing rooms.

David felt as though the whole thing was pathetically obvious, as though he might as well have a flashing neon sign over his head, but he sauntered - which was a sure sign of guilt; nobody genuinely innocent has ever _sauntered_ anywhere - after Charlie.

When he caught up, Charlie was already in his dressing room, sitting on one of the cheap, stackable chairs. His hands were clasped behind the back of the chair and the rope was a tangled coil on his lap. He didn't look up, kept his gaze fixed down and to the left, but he said, "I'm sorry. Please."

David picked the rope up before he realised he was the one in charge. At least, he thought he was in charge. To test it, he said, "Take your shirt off."

Charlie still didn't meet his gaze but he eased his arms out of their cramped position and slowly started to unbutton his shirt. Dark blue, not quite navy, with thin white stripes, and it seemed to have five thousand buttons because it took forever. But David didn't hurry him, just watched the slow reveal of skin and hair, until eventually Charlie tugged the shirt out of his jeans and pulled it over his head.

He dropped it on the floor but David picked it up, folded it and hung it over the back of another chair.

Charlie had his hands back behind the chair and there was a small frown of concentration on his face. He shivered slightly, despite the sheen of sweat over his shoulders and arms.

David wrapped the rope around Charlie's chest, waist, but Charlie's arms were in the way, stopping him tying it as tight as he wanted. "Lift your arms" he said. He was quiet but Charlie obeyed as if he'd snapped the order. David jerked the rope tight, feeling it rough, almost painful, against his fingers and could only imagine what it must be like against Charlie's skin. "Put your arms back," he said, and Charlie did so. David looped a free end of the rope around Charlie's wrists a couple of times and firmly knotted it. Charlie shivered.

"Can you get free?" David asked and Charlie tugged against the ropes. Not too hard, but hard enough that they both knew he was trapped.

Charlie's breathing was a heavy rush, his eyes screwed shut, and David ran his fingers through Charlie's hair, got as tight a grip as he could, and pulled Charlie's head back.

Charlie resisted just enough for David to force him, and then David leaned forward and licked his neck, up to his ear. Charlie's constant shivers turned into a violent shudder and a whining moan escaped from his throat.

David licked again, finished up with a sharp bite of Charlie's earlobe, and now the whimpering was a constant soundtrack. Charlie was shifting, continuously tugging against the rope, and his hips were making tiny, abortive jerks, muscles in his thighs tensed to the point where it _had_ to hurt.

And finally, David unfastened Charlie's jeans, struggled with the folds of denim to get Charlie's cock free, and the moment he had it in his hand, Charlie's whimpering turned into a muffled shout and he came.

David just stared at the splashes of semen on his arm. It seemed completely impossible that Charlie Brooker just came in his hand but the evidence was pretty solid that he had.

Charlie was sagging against the rope, and he swallowed hard, opened his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said.

"No," David said. "No need. I-" _Enjoyed it_ was nowhere near the mark.

"Could you-?" Charlie said, and lifted his arms as much as he could.

"Yes, yes, of course. Sorry. I should have-" He was untying the rope as he spoke and he was so flustered he didn't even notice how close his groin was to Charlie's face until Charlie's hand was on his hip. David stepped back automatically and Charlie followed, ended up on the floor on his knees, and the rope was still tangled around him, leashing him to the chair.

And Charlie was unfastening David's trousers, he had his mouth on David's cock, and David had to grab hold of Charlie's hair because it was the only way he could stay on his feet.

Oh, god, Charlie had done this before, and David's mind flashed to an image of Charlie on his knees in a sex club, in an alley, in a dressing room, any fucking where, and he never wanted to see it again, never wanted to see Charlie on his knees for anybody but *him*.

"Fuck!" he gasped, and he came.

Charlie swallowed and, at this point, that wasn't much of a surprise. Neither was the way he looked away as he stood up, quickly fastened his jeans and pulled his shirt back on, before disentangling himself from the rope around his ankles.

"Um, your hair-" David said, fastening his own trousers. "Sorry. I-"

Charlie was staring in the mirror, battling with his hair, and he said, "I- Fuck. Sorry. I just-" And Charlie finally looked up, and it might only be via the mirror but he did meet David's eyes. "Thanks."

Now David was fighting the urge to look away but he held Charlie's gaze long enough to say, "No need to thank me," and managed an awkward smile. "I, ah, quite enjoyed it. Rather a lot." And he had to look away at that.

He could hear Charlie approaching, could feel the air moving around him and then the heat of Charlie's body, but it was still a surprise when Charlie kissed him. It was instinctive to lean into it, to rest his hand on the back of Charlie's neck and let his eyes flicker closed. And it felt more intimate than anything they'd done up to this point.

They were interrupted by somebody knocking loudly on the door. "Radios are back," Louise, the runner, called. "Get your arse back on set."

"Fuck off or I'll sack you," Charlie yelled back.

"Five minutes or I'll rip your arm off and shove it up your arse."

David heard her walking away, and Charlie groaned. "Next time, we do this somewhere where we have more time. And privacy."

David blinked. "You, er, you want to do this again?"

"I was hoping that if I acted confident enough, you'd go along without bothering to ask. But, yes. I want to do this again. If you do, that is? I don't want to..." He gestured vaguely.

"No. No, I mean, I'd like to do it again, too."

"Good," Charlie said, and they were left grinning at each other. "Right," Charlie said. "I'd better get-" He nodded towards the door.

"Yes," David said. "Good idea."

He didn't follow Charlie straight away, stayed long enough to try to wipe the ridiculously huge smile off his face, and when he got back on set, Charlie was settled into his chair and Al was tying him to it.

"Ow!" Charlie said. "Not so tight, you perv," and then he looked up at David and grinned.


End file.
